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I wake up choking on air. My stomach tightens, a fist clenching deep inside me, crushing me from the inside out. For a second, I don’t know where I am. The sheets beneath me are too soft. The air is too warm. The smell of blood is gone. The cloth is gone.

But the terror remains.

All I can hear is my heart pounding in my head. Each beat feels too loud, too fast. I struggle to catch my breath, my chest rising and falling in quick, uneven gasps. The warmth of Rey radiates beside me, his presence like a weight pressing down on me. I close my eyes, forcing my breathing to slow.

In and out.

Calm down, Serena.

Slowly, I shift my gaze, looking at him from the corner of my eye. He’s still asleep. His face is peaceful. Unbothered. Then, suddenly, his alarm blares. I squeeze my eyes shut as he groans, shifting beside me. The bed moves with his weight as he reaches to turn it off. My stomach clenches again, sharp and merciless, and I press a hand to my belly.

I keep my breathing even, hoping he doesn’t notice I’m awake.

The bed shifts again. A shuffle of movement. The bathroom door creaks open. The sound of water running. My stomach relaxes, the tightness loosening, but the ache lingers. Then Rey steps out of the bathroom.

More scratches.

My stomach turns.

"Mi Reina, good morning." His voice is warm as he walks over to my side of the bed, his hand running gently over the swell of my stomach. "How are you feeling?"

I groan, but his eyes are already scanning my face. The worry in them makes my skin prickle. My face no longer burns, but I lift my hand, expecting to feel the scratches from the night before. Then Rey speaks again, and his words hit me like a freight train.

"The scratches are healing nicely. I had to sedate you for a day. I guess from the exhaustion, you don’t remember. But when I came home that night, I found you asleep in the bathroom, throw-up all over you, scratches all over your face."

I shake my head.

No.

No, that’s not right.

But Rey just nods, like it’s already been decided.

"It is. You’re not well, baby. I think we should consider letting your mom come visit. I’m worried." His voice lowers, almost gentle, his eyes shifting down to where his hand rests on my stomach.

My stomach twists, nausea creeping up my throat.

This isn’t right.

Josh.

Josh was with me.

I remember.

I part my lips, but the words never leave my mouth.

"I need to go out for a bit. I have to go to the University for some paperwork. Do you think you’ll be okay?"

I blink. But before I can reply he’s already moving, already pulling away. Like I haven’t been staring at him, trying to understand what’s real.

"I asked Josh to come by and keep an eye on you. I’d rather you not be alone." He takes a deep breath. "I asked him last night."

I nod numbly.

Josh.

Last night.